


I Can See That.

by PrettyPurplePea (orphan_account)



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/PrettyPurplePea
Summary: “Jordon! Wake up, fucker! Do you want Del Taco or Pizza?” Jordon's eyes shot open to the sound of George's voice.“He's been sleeping since you two were walking back from the bar, how much did he drink?” Matthew’s voice hit him.“Enough to knock him out.”“I can see that."





	I Can See That.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AwokenMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwokenMonster/gifts).



> Hey Awokenmonster, sorry this ran over the time I said it would take and I know I went off subject but it's basically : Jordon wakes up and can't remember what happens, then it comes back to him.

Jordon limped down the street, on his phone, scrolling through his contacts.

Jorel... 

_No, he'll be with Vanessa._

Dylan... 

_No, he'll be high off his tits at the moment._

Jeff... 

_No, he hasn't spoken to him in 4 years._

Jane... 

_No, his mum didn't live anywhere near to where he was at the moment._

Jake... 

_No, his brother would be sleeping._

George... 

_Definitely not._

Danny... 

_No, he'll be with his daughter and wife._

Matthew! 

Jordon pressed the dial button, feeling his phone starting to vibrate in his hand.

He'd messed up big _big_ time. Jordon should of just kept his mouth zipped shut.

Definitely didn't help that he was far from tipsy when _it_ happened.

He kept staggering down the street, making his way gradually to the curly haired man's house.

 _Come on... pick up you wank!_ Jordon scowled in his mind, pain throbbing throughout his whole body. 

_Fine, if you're not going to pick up I'll just leave you a voicemail,_ he decided in the end.

"Hey bro. Look, I was out drinking with George and things got turned sour once we left, can I come round?" He asked, putting his phone in his pocket once the message had been recorded.

It was true, things did turn very sour and Jordon regretted everything he said.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

They were at the bar, having a boy's night out. Well, it was only Jordon and George so it was more of a friend's night out.

Jordon downed another shot of vodka, completing losing track of how many he had done now.

"Come on, Jordon, we better get back. Crash at my place, it's closer." George snuck up behind Jordon, making him jump.

Jordon could see that George was visibly not in a pleasant mood, the Irish man had drunk a fair amount himself.

2 shots of whiskey and 4 shots of vodka had hit the man hard, even though he could usually stomach a tad more but Jordon's alcohol filled brain did not remember that George becomes very hostile and paranoid when he is drunk, he didn't remember that he wouldn't be safe.

"Okay then!" Jordon laughed slightly, feeling all giddy and warm inside. George was feeling the opposite, his warmness inside was just his blood boiling.

George nodded at Jordon and walked out of the bar, Jordon following his very footsteps.

"Are you excited to be playing with that band next time we tour? They are fucking amazing!" Jordon sped up his pace and walked beside George, trying to make general conversation.

"Mhmm." George replied with the noise, uninterested.

 _I'll know what will get him talking,_

"You know, that lead singer is quite the looker." Jordon smiled to himself. "And a little birdie told me that Asia had the hots for him."

"What?" George quickly turned his head round to look at Jordon, his pace slowing down to match the shorter man's.

"Why should you care, you two split up recently." Jordon muttered. 

"What else?" George bitterly snapped, ignoring what Jordon just said.

"When she found out you were touring with the band, she was acting like a little school girl seeing her crush walk past her as she was at her locker." Jordon saw George tense up. "Yeah, those rippling abs and that well-structured body, she was dripping wet just from the thought of him." 

George narrowed his eyes. "I've heard enough." He mumbled, clenching his fists.

"I talked to Asia and she told me that she wouldn't mind having his boots under her bed if you know what I mean." Jordon winked at George.

"I said _I've heard enough._ " George's voice deepened with seriousness, but the alcohol Jordon had consumed was blurring his judgment on how long it would take for George to explode.

"She also told me that his dick is way bigger. Asia didn't even have to see it to kno-" A tattooed fist suddenly came flying into Jordon's eye.

The pain traveled from his eyelid to his toes, his body being sent to the floor from the impact.

Jordon winced at the pain.

"Fuck" He muttered. 

The short man struggled to sit up, rubbing his eye to try and mask the pain.

"I said _I've heard enough._ " George snarled, boring his eyes deep inside Jordon's soul.

Jordon thought about what he should do.

If he tried to fight George, he would most likely lose.

But if he just got up and said sorry, it would become awkward very quickly and he would then have to walk to his own house and confront his wife. 

Even though he was sobering up, logic was not standing anywhere near his side.

He started to stand up, feeling George watching him closely.

A spark of adrenaline flowed through Jordon, waking him up and making him lunge at the Irishman, fists curled and eye(s) focused.

George stepped to the side, a look of lunacy entering his cold eyes as he regained his balance. 

Jordon saw another chance to attack. 

He flung his fist towards the Irishman, hoping it hit him somewhere like his cheek or anywhere on his face.

This time, Jordon's fist hit George's nose.

George took some steps back, making space between the two fighting men. He cupped his nose, wincing his eyes shut as the pain traveled throughout his face.

 _No, this is going to get out of hand very quickly, I'll just leave now before anything else happens,_ Jordon quickly came to the conclusion.

Jordon turned his back to George and ran off down the alleyway.

The wind was lashing at his face, the cold drying his eyes up. He could feel his heart pounding, he could hear his blood rushing in his ears, he could smell the odour of fear generating off him, he could taste metal, _blood,_ in his mouth for some reason.

"yoU FUCKER!" George's scream echoed down the alleyway, fright filling Jordon to the brim.

Jordon wasn't going to be beaten to a pulp, no, not today. The smartest idea to avoid that is to just keep running till he can hide.

What happened next was a blur to Jordon.

He couldn't remember what happened, well, he could barely remember anything as it was.

Only the images of darkness, a bright light, red then full darkness again was what he could remember . Only the feeling of fear, shock, pain and then nothing.

Those were his last moments before he woke up, dizzy and faint on the side of the cold, hard pavement of the Main Street, not to far from the alleyway he had been running down.

George wasn't there, he was no where to be seen. 

_Probably ran off in shame,_ Jordon scoffed.

No one was around, all the lights in the shops turned off and the only sound around was the wind. The noise wasn't clear, no. It was fading in and out of Jordon's ears, like he was losing his hearing only for it to come back and go again.

Jordon ignored it, it was probably just a side affect of fainting, _right?_

The good half of his left body was booming with pain, especially his arm and leg.

 _Fuck..._ He struggled to stand up, the pain almost unbearable.

He shut his eyes, ready to embrace the pain as he pushed himself up on to his feet, his eyes watering.

"Feels like I've been hit by a truck, Jesus Christ." He groaned, holding the left side of his hip.

The pain was... unusual.

Jordon swore that it hurt way more when he woke up.

He shrugged it off, taking a step forward before a massive crack came from his ankle.

 _Well fuck me,_ Jordon took another step forward even though he knew that the crack didn't sound at all natural.

Jordon then realised that he had to find help, quick. He needed to get a lift to the hospital probably, but who would give him one?

Everyone is going to sleeping at this time in the morning, only George stays up this late but the fucker is gone.

 _Dickhead..._ Jordon scowled in his mind.

Jordon started walking down the street, heading in the general direction of where everybody lived.

His mind was a running train of thought, trying to connect the dots and piece together what happened before he woke up.

Maybe he slipped and hit his head?

Maybe George knocked him out by accident?

Maybe he was push-

A person.

A man was walking towards Jordon.

Relief flooded his body.

"Hey sir! Could you help me?" Jordon asked the man as he got closer.

But the man said nothing. Hell, he didn't even glance at Jordon. He just kept on walking, minding his own business.

Now he was really confused, Jordon probably looked like hell had been rained upon him yet the man didn't even notice him?

"A bit of sympathy would help." Jordon sarcastically spoke.

He shook it off, probably just a druggie on a stroll, he is in California after all.

A sigh escaped Jordon as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

The pain was gone, completely, and his hearing was drifting in and out, the wind sounding like it was being turned off and on every 3 seconds. He could also smell something but he was unsure of what it was.

Perfume? No.

Gas? No.

Axe? No.

Alcohol? No- Yes! Yes, it whiskey.

Why was he smelling whiskey? It was like someone was chugging down a bottle right behind him.

He took in another breath of air.

Still whiskey.

"It's like being round George's flat on his birthday." He mumbled to himself.

~~Hahahha~~

Jordon's eyes opened wide.

Was that someone laughing?

Sure, it was faint, but it definitely heard like someone was listening to what he was saying.

And the laugh, the laugh, was so familiar. 

A shiver went flying down his spine. "Just the wind..." he reassured himself though doubt was clouding his mind.

Jordon walked for a good ten minutes before finally recognising the area he was entering. _Thank the lord,_ he thought.

And that is where Jordon is now, walking and confused.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Yes, that is what happened.

Jordon yawned, can't blame him, it was late after all.

A night of drinking and fighting would make any man very tired.

He smelled the air again, the scent of whiskey filling his lungs along with the smell of a cigarette.

 _Fuck,_ he breathed in again, taking in all the fumes.

Oh how he could do with a cigarette right now. Oh how much bliss it would be to just crack a beer and puff a fag away. He lusted for just one cigarette, only one.

That's all he could think about, the fumes clogging his brain.

In fact, Jordon was so much lost in thought, the man didn't realise he was standing outside of Matthew's house "That's helpful..." He whispered to himself as he trekked up the driveway, passing the man's black car. 

The paint was peeling off the old car and one of the mirrors had been ripped off but other then that, the car was in good conditions. 

He made his was up to the front door, placing a fist on it before lightly tapping the wood.

The door smacked wide open, making Jordon take some steps back because of the ferocity and force of the smack.

"Oh my god! What happened? Where is-" Jordon's hearing suddenly went, him only being able to see Matthew standing there, shocked and wide eyed.

"George just attacked me so I fought back and then I blacked out and I don't remember anything of what happened!" Jordon exclaimed.

"Oh shit, is he okay?" Jordon caught the words coming from Matthew.

"I don't know! He ran off!" Jordon tried shouting, the noise coming from his mouth quiet as snow.

"Do you think he is hurt?" Matthew then asked.

"As I said, _I don't know._ I am the one who needs fucking help at the moment!" Jordon clenched his fists in frustration. It was like he couldn't hear what he was saying.

"Jump in the car. We'll go find him." Matthew pulled his keys out of his pocket and locked the front door behind him.

"No! You take me to the hospital first..." Jordon's words drifted off as Matthew walked past him. 

Jordon realised in horror that Matthew hadn't probably heard a word he said, not even a squeak.

He then watched Matthew go to the person who he was _really_ walking to. The person who he was _really_ talking to.

George.

That explains the sweet whiskey scent, the strength of the aroma bugging his brain for the whole night.

That explains the smell of tobacco, the one harassing him, clouding his brain as he was walking.

All of a sudden, all of Jordon's hearing came rushing back to him, making him squint his eyes shut as it flooded his senses.

He opened them and stared at the two men.

George has deep bags indented underneath his eyes, his pupils dilated and blood-shot. Blood has stained his nose, a dry line of it still on his face, touching his chin.

George's eyes darted towards Jordon, making direct eye contact with him. Jordon could see the flames dancing in them, pure hell breeding inside them and ungodly sights haunting them.

"Come on, get into the car." Matthew placed a hand on his broad shoulder, helping the man towards the car.

"No no no!" Jordon screamed at Matthew but he was oblivious to what he was trying to tell him.

"Thanks, dude." George's voice weak as he spoke, trying to convince Matthew that he was hurt worse then he really was.

"Matthew?" Jordon walked behind the two men.

Matthew opened the back door of the car up for George.

"I'll sit in the front." George decided, opening up the front door and getting in.

Matthew just shrugged at the man's choice but before he shut the the door, Jordon slipped in and sat down. "Can you hear me?" He asked Matthew before the curly-haired man shut the door and walked round to the drivers side.

"He can't," George's voice pierced Jordon's ears, "but I can," He turned to Jordon, eyes weirdly calm.

Jordon didn't know what to say. He was just purely shocked, George knew he was there yet he would not help his friend neither tell Matthew the truth.

Matthew jumped into the car, started it up and then put on his seatbelt. "So what happened then?" Matthew asked George.

"Of course, we went out drinking after all of us had finished recording the new album. We left the bar and started walking back to my place before a group of guys jumped us, I guessed Deuce must of sent them." 

_What? No!_ Jordon narrowed his eyes.

"I got hit in the nose before I ran off but I remember they socked Jordon real hard in the eye. I'm not sure what happened after, I hope he is okay." George sounded sincere but his eyes were blank and expressed no emotion.

 _Liar,_ he thought.

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Matthew started the engine up and reversed out the driveway, "we will find him and he will be _fine_." Matthew gripped the steering wheel harder, concentrated on looking at the road awaiting him.

Jordon saw George give Matthew a mocking look, a small smile appearing on his face before quickly disappearing, all traces of his snideness gone. His face had melted to be serious, eyes scanning the sidewalks.

"How could you?" Jordon growled at George. "You have the balls to go tell _our_ best friends that we got jumped and you ran. You really have no decency to tell them what really happened?" He wasn't expecting a reply, but he would appreciate one.

George's hand slipped down the side of the seat where Jordon could see it. He flipped Jordon off before crossing his arms again.

The anger was building up in his chest.

He thought George was his friend, not his attacker. He spent his life being close to him, how could he just turn his back now?

"What's going on up here?" Matthew stopped the car and jumped out. George done the same, but he opened up the back door, letting Jordon out.

Jordon narrowed his eyes at George and George just rolled his eyes. 

They were by the street he was walking down but further along. 2 police cars were stationed by the road and so was 1 ambulance. The lights on the vehicles were flashing, the light hurting his eyes. Police officers were crowded round a certain area and so were paramedics.

Matthew walked off to talk to a police officer and George walked closer to get a better look.

Jordon followed him, horrified at what he saw.

A man was sprawled out on the street, his arm and leg stretched out.

I say arm and leg as only two were left on the body.

The other two had been completely crushed. The arm's skin had been ripped and torn, slightly tattooed skin lying on the road along with piles of blood. Bone was sticking out everywhere, fragments of muscle hanging off them.

The same went for the leg too. The only difference was that it was more intact but it wasn't good either. The femur had been snapped and it resembled splinters all over the road. Flesh had been pushed into the ground and it reminded Jordon of pushing cheese through a cheese grater.

He felt like being sick. The sight was absolutely disgusting and horrifying.

"Jordon, look at the persons face." George whispered.

Jordon observed the face.

The man had messy, brown hair and deep, ocean blue eyes that had rolled into the back of his head. His face was very rounded, slightly chubby, with a small amount of facial hair...

Realisation crept upon Jordon like a spider crawling up his back.

That wasn't no one.

That was him.

The man lying there, flattened, was Jordon Kristopher Terrell.

He flinched as all the memories flooded back to him.

Now he remembered what happened.

The scene played through his mind like a cartoon on an endless run. Over and over and over again.

The light, the red and the darkness flashed through his mind. The sounds ringing in his ears of bones cracking and wheels screeching.

Now he knows what happened.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He sprinted down the alleyway, running as fast as his short legs could carry him.

George was hot on his tail, fucking burning red hot on his tail.

Jordon's legs were screaming at him to stop and sit down but his heart told him that if he stopped, only the lord knows what beating he would be in for. Another part of Jordon was also telling him to stop, not because he was tired, because something horrible was going to happen. 

Something _tragic_.

Jordon pushed over a trash can behind him, hoping it would slow down the monster chasing after him but to Jordon's dismay, the footsteps did not slow down for a second, in fact, they sped up.

He wasn't watching were he was running, he was more focused on how long it would take for George to catch up, how long it would take for George to beat him to nothing more then a lump of bloodied sugar.

Jordon halted and skidded along the ground.

He was out of the alley way but not safe.

No, he would never be safe.

He wouldn't be safe from his enemies or lovers. 

Even his best friend.

Two large hands pushed into Jordon's back, the force sending him flying out into the road.

It all happened so quickly, _too_ quickly.

The truck came speeding along, smashing straight into Jordon's body, sending him rolling across the road.

He felt nothing except metal piercing his skin, pushing through his soft, tender flesh. The truck didn't stop, no, it continued, the large, thick wheels using Jordon as the road he was lying on. 

No pain, not yet. Only the feeling of his skin being awkwardly pushed and poked by nothing.

Jordon agonisingly turned his head to his side, his body awfully week. Blood was sprayed down the road, the truck speeding off. All feeling was gone in his arms and legs. He turned his head back round and stared at his arm. All the flesh had been crushed or stripped off.

Something else caught his attention.

George was standing there, eyes wide open. He looked shocked and _disgusted_. He went back down the alleyway in a hurry, running down to get away.

And that was when the pain hit.

He wanted to scream but he couldn't. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. He wanted to hold his arm and leg but he couldn't.

All he could do was lie there, watching himself bleed out.

The pain was nagging, it constantly throbbing every 2 seconds. His muscles were all tensed up, rippling every time a convulsion of pain was sent through his body. 

All fluids were leaking from his body as he was fighting for his last breath. Blood, piss, whatever it could produce at the time. 

All of his energy had been stripped from him and so was his vision, darkness engulfing him completely. 

His hearing was the last to go, yet it wasn't clear while it was there.

The last sound that ever entered his brain was the sound of sirens, lots of them.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jordon whipped his head round to look at George and give him a mouthful but he wasn't there.

He was gone.

Everyone was gone.

Everything had returned to how it was before he woke up. Everybody had disappeared and all the street lights off, only the lights from the ambulance lighting him up,

He walked up to the body and sat down next to it, staring at the mess that had been made.

27 years of memory had been stored in there. 27 years of happiness, sadness and anger had been stored. 27 years of regret, love and envy had been stored in there. 

_His_ memories, _his_ life.

And now, it was all lost.

A wasted life time and a wasted soul.

Jordon was half expecting the chest to start moving again, that _he_ would start breathing again. Nothing. He just lied there, motionless and smelling of blood.

He had to look away, a wave of sickness creeping up his throat.

His eyes darted towards the ambulance in front of them, the bright light suddenly taking over his vision.

It was like the light of god, blinding him except it wasn't.

Jordon was paralysed, no movement coming from his body. He kicked his legs and tried to flail his arms around but no movement came. He looked around but he could only see the bright light.

He panicked more, was he going to be stuck like this?

Was he going to heaven or hell?

Is… is his soul moving on?

Jordon tried moving again but-

“Jordon! Wake up, fucker! Do you want Del Taco or Pizza?” Jordon's eyes shot open to the sound of George's voice.

“He's been sleeping since you two were walking back from the bar, how much did he drink?” Matthew’s voice hit him.

“Enough to knock him out.”

“I can see that.”

**Author's Note:**

> If it's a bit too confusing, basically Jordon and george went out drinking, they started fighting and George pushed him out into the road but he doesn't remember that at the start, he I trying to call Matthew but it won't pick up because he is 'dead', he then goes to Matthew and then realises Matthew is talking to George not him. George shows him his dead body then he remembers. Then everyone disappears and he sees the light which is actually George shining a torch in his face to wake him up. So basically this was a fucked up dream ans what really happened was that he blacked out when they were walking home so George called Matthew and got a lift home with Jordon.


End file.
